Page 180 of Salvatore

“Gifts?” I reluctantly drop my phone on the bed and sit up with a wince.

“Salvo sent me on a shopping spree.” She approaches and dumps the bags on the mattress. “I’m sorry we haven’t been properly introduced. But for formalities sake, I’m Abri, sister to the malicious ogre who has unwittingly impregnated you.”She pauses a moment, her eyes narrowing. “It was unwittingly, right?”

“This isn’t something I would’ve planned.”

“Yeah. I thought so. This situation has my brother stamped all over it.” She nods as if to herself. “How are you holding up?”

“Pretty good. Although at times I do wonder if I should stick a fork in an outlet and call it a day.”

She snorts. “That good, huh? Want to talk about it? You were giving off panicked vibes while you were staring at your phone.”

I contemplate her offer.

She seems nice enough. Genuine. And the urge to info dump is top tier, but Abri’s not the right audience for the million-dollar complication reveal, so I lie. “It’s nothing, really. I just sent an important message to Salvatore earlier and I’m surprised I haven’t heard back.”

“He’s already up and about. But don’t fret. I’m pretty sure he only reads at a third-grade level. Give him time. He’s not ignoring you—he’s probably still sounding it out.”

A laugh bursts from me, followed by a gasp as I place a hand over the stabbing pain in my stomach.

“Shit. Sorry.” She cringes. “Are you all right?”

I hold my breath and nod for the few seconds it takes for the pain to subside.

“Hopefully this might make you feel better.” She upends the contents of the bags onto the bed—pre-natal vitamins, anti-nausea bands, a pregnancy journal, herbal teas, belly oil, a pregnancy book. There’s more too, but they’re smothered under everything else. “Salvo asked me to get these for you. I did warn him it was over the top, but he insisted.”

I blink blindly at the mountainous pile.

What the absolute fuck?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Abri asks.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to suppress the approach of anxiety. “I can’t tell if I need an extra-large coffee, five shots of vodka, six hundred and twenty-five chicken nuggets, or two straight months of sleep.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She sighs. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but those first two options are off the table now due to the fetal collaboration. I could help with the chicken nuggets though. Want me to pick some up for you?”

“No.” I drop my hand back to my side. “I’m good. I promise. I’d be better though if your brother hadn’t ordered the purchase of a whole store full of pregnancy supplies when I haven’t even decided if I’m going to have the baby.”

“Are you serious?” She deadpans. “Thatfucking moron. He told me you wanted to keep it. He was acting as if it was a done deal.”

“I’m undecided at best.”

Her eyes widen to seething saucers. “I swear to God, my brothers are proof that evolution isn’t always progressive. Who the hell asks someone to buy thousands of dollars’ worth of pregnancy supplies when the longevity of the pregnancy hasn’t been agreed upon?”

Salvatore Costa, that’s who—the man who warned me of his impending mental derailment while I naively convinced myself it was a cute, overexaggerated character flaw.

“I’m going to assume he meant well.” I lower my gaze to the carpet, solemn and still so bone-wearingly tired. “He wants me to keep it, which wasn’t expected… He’s not who I thought he was.”

When she doesn’t respond, I glance sideways to find sadness peering back at me.

“I understand that feeling.” She drags in a tired breath. “Until yesterday I had him pegged as an award-winning asshole. Now it seems I’m the family’s designated villain.”

“I don’t think that’s the case.”

She shrugs. “I’ve wished him dead on multiple occasions.”

“That’s normal sibling rivalry, right?”

“Not when those wishes involve actual plans of homicide. He’s lucky I didn’t let PMS take the wheel on some of my darkest days because he’d be buried in a ditch by now.”

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